


A Jon in a Jumper

by soullessvoid



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Martin deserves some love, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period, Soft Boys, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, its very soft, just I need my boys happy before all the horrors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23894017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soullessvoid/pseuds/soullessvoid
Summary: It's a morning in the safe house and some thoughts are had and said.Ft, a jumper.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 10
Kudos: 122





	A Jon in a Jumper

The cottage was quiet, everything was quiet, especially this far out in the Scottish countryside. Quiet enough that Martin could hear Jon waking up and shuffling about in the bedroom across the small house from where he stood looking out the kitchen window. He couldn’t help the small amused smile creeping onto his face when Jon finally shuffled out, hiding it behind his mug of tea. 

It looked like Jon had thrown on whatever was warm and comfortable and within reach, and Martin just watched the muzzy-eyed, half-asleep man with the worst case of bead-head in the world, shamble over and thump against Martin with an incoherent grumble. That made Martin huff out a soft quiet laugh, placing his mug on the bench and wrapping his arms around Jon, still not quite believing that this was real. Not the murder-y, end-of-the-known-world parts, but Jon, _here_ , snuggled into him and almost back asleep. Real. After  _ everything _ that happened- no, he couldn’t think any more about that. Martin squeezes slightly, needing the reassurance, and Jon breathes out a deep sigh as his arms wrap around Martin and suddenly everything is too much and not enough and Martin has to bury his face in Jon’s shoulder for a while. 

When he can manage to face the world again, such as it is with damp rolling green hills and heavy grey clouds, Jon is sleepy but awake and looking at him in concern. Martin sighs, takes a breath, and doesn’t quite smile. 

“Martin-” Jon starts but before that gorgeous morning-mess of a man can say anything more Martin interrupts. 

“Y’know, I didn’t ever think this’d happen. I was ok just being there, behind the scenes when you needed something. Too scared to say anything because ‘What would this amazing, beautiful, insanely smart, Head Archivist wonder of a man ever see in me? Me a pudgy, soft, squish-ball, of an archival assistant nobody who everyone seems to think makes tea all day for everyone.'” 

“Martin I-” Jon tries to say something, but Martin interrupts again knowing that if he doesn’t talk now he never will.

“Jon, just hang on I’m getting there. And then thigs started happening, th-the  _ worms _ , and sleeping at the Archives, and Prentiss. Then _everything_ after that, and somehow we’re  _ here _ and-and  _ together _ . Sorry, everything just hit all at once and it… Oh, I don’t know.” 

Martin heaves a sigh, disentangling himself from Jon and hides behind his mug of tea, feeling foolish and ironically a bit small, avoiding Jon’s eyes as he sips the distractingly hot drink. He hears Jon hum and shifts uncomfortably to lean against the counter. 

“It became a bit overwhelming.” Jon finishes in that precise and final way he has when he’s absolutely sure of something. Martin’s eyes snap up in surprise to see Jon looking at him in quiet understanding. 

“Yeah.” Martin breathes out, voice cracking slightly around the barely audible word. Heard by him and Jon only because of the almost-silence surrounding the cottage. 

Jon shifts, pressing their arms together, only moving when Martin goes to make more tea. His movements smooth from years of shifting through the process and in almost no time he’s carrying two steaming mugs over to where Jon is curled up on the couch in a puddle of fabric. Pulling a laugh out of Martin when he makes grabby-hands for a mug. Speaking only when they're both settled and cradling their tea. 

“Martin... I-I wouldn’t be here without you. Without  _ all _ of you. Basira, Daisy, S-Sasha, Melanie, Georgie, Tim… Hell, even Elias, royal git that he is. I guess my point is that you, Martin, are not a nobody. Never have been to be honest, I was just being thick.” 

“You still are.” Martin mumbles innocently through his mug of tea and Jon half glares at him as he tries to hide his smile in the ceramic and hot, flavoured, milky water. 

“Martin…” Jon stares and gives him a long-suffering sigh. 

“Yes, Jon?” Martin tries to hide the giggle wanting to escape, feeling his cheeks redden slightly. 

“You are insufferable-” Jon growls but Martin can see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What I was  _ trying _ to say when you so  _ rudely _ interrupted, was-was that I appreciate you. For being there, for looking after me and everyone when you didn’t have to. I-I don’t think I’ll ever say it enough but, thank you.” 

Suddenly Martin feels a rough hand against his cheek and when he turns his head Jon is looking at him with the deepest, softest warm-brown eyes he’s ever seen and Martin falls for him all over again. Then, as his eyes drift over Jon’s face, he notices the colour of Jon’s jumper - a baby blue, worn and faded from wear. The sleeves, shoulders, and neckline all baggy with the cuffs shoved out of the way up at Jon’s elbows. 

“Jon?” Martin asks slowly.    
  


“Yes, Martin?” 

“Did you… Is that my jumper?” 

Martin smirks as Jon turns an adorable shade of dark crimson and looks down at himself in surprise. A small ‘oh’ tumbling out of his mouth before he starts spluttering and trying to explain. Martin sits, sips his tea, and watches the cute morning-mess of a man he’s fallen in love with turn a little redder and eventually talk himself out of words until he’s sitting, cradling his tea and flusteredly glaring at Martin. 

At this, Martin chuckles and Jon’s lips twitch. Unable to help himself Martin starts laughing and soon Jon is joining him, warm and happy. A small traitorous corner of his mind reminds him that this is probably the first time either of them has genuinely laughed in months. But that doesn’t matter, Martin is warm and fuzzy and laughing with Jon and, for now, everything is just perfect. 

Soon they finish their tea and Jon is plucking Martin’s cup off the table, leaning over the back of the couch and nuzzling into Martin’s neck with a hum. 

“Breakfast?” 

“Please.” 

Jon huffs, amused, surprising Martin by planting a small kiss against his jaw before wandering out to the small kitchen, puttering about. Martin loses himself in the background noise, content. 

Jon had always been a better cook anyway.


End file.
